


Just Another Ordinary Day

by desperationandgin



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin





	Just Another Ordinary Day

There’s an unrest in the pit of Juliet’s stomach that she can’t shake. She wakes up in the middle of the night, twisted in the sheets of their bed, sweating and gasping for breath. She looks over at James who’s still asleep, completely unaware. Getting out of bed, she reaches down and comes up with his white t-shirt, tugging it over her head, the hem hanging down to her thighs. Walking to the living room, she stands for a minute in the dark, almost as if she’s looking for something out of place.  
  
Finally settling onto the couch, she stares at nothing, rubbing her thumb across her bottom lip; a nervous habit that she was able to keep from doing when she was living life as an Other. When she wasn’t allowed to have any tells. Now, three years later, she’s comfortable and old habits are resurfacing. She’s allowed to show her feelings; she’s allowed to have a nervous tick, she guesses. She looks at the clock. 12:47 in the morning – her island anniversary is official. It’s been six years that she’s been on the island. Three years that she spent trying to get away, and three years that she’s sure she’d never change for anything.  
  
When she looks back on it, she really has no idea when the idea of leaving became obsolete, but the idea of staying, of living this life and being happy eventually won out. There were days she felt guilty for finally letting go of Rachel, days where she wondered if there was an empty grave somewhere in Miami with her name on it. But most of her days are spent wondering if James would mind pasta again for dinner because that’s all she’s really good at cooking, or if he wouldn’t mind skipping poker night with the guys to stay in and read with her. Such normal things to think, and she wonders sometimes when the other shoe is going to drop. In the silence of the house she hears him move in bed, and she knows it won’t be long before he’s up looking for her.  
  
She loves him, and she knows that he loves her. But she knows that in the real world, if he’d ever met the Juliet who’d spent years being married to an asshole and fixing her broken sister, he’d never look twice. He knows her for who she became on the island, not who she was off of it. And she has no idea if he could ever love her if he knew that version of her. The one that cried over everything, the one who let a man walk all over her even after her divorce. The one who didn’t stand up for herself. It’s probably not fair, because she knows he thinks the same thing about her: That a smart doctor would never look twice at him. And when she asks herself that same question, she can’t bring herself to answer it. She can’t imagine her life without him.  
  
Sure enough, his footsteps echo down the hallway and he calls her name softly. “In the living room,” she calls back, not moving except to look up when he wanders in wearing his boxers.  
  
“What are you doin’ up? Come back to bed.” It’s the first night he’s had off in a while, and after the chaos of delivering Amy’s baby hours earlier she knows he’s been looking forward to sleeping in the next morning. She doesn’t move though, not as fast as she should have, and he’s sitting next to her, nudging her knee with his.  
  
“It’s my anniversary, you know,” she says quietly, looking over and locking eyes with him.  
  
“Mine too,” he says with a half smile, but plane crash aside, his three years don’t compare to her first three. The first anniversary, she cried and he held her. The second year they got drunk together. “C’mon,” he says softly, standing and reaching for her hand. She lets him pull her up and lead her back to their bedroom, easily raising her arms as he rids her of his shirt while her hands push away his boxers. Slipping into bed with him, her body fits perfectly against his and she rakes her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes as his lips graze her cheeks, across her nose, down her jaw and finally her mouth. She thinks again about how she’s sure he’d never talk to her off the island and her kiss becomes desperate, and she knows by his grunt that it takes him off guard.  
  
Her hands are everywhere, seeking him out, needing him, and he can’t deny her anything. He whispers that he loves her, watches her as she guides him into her body, and holds her when she buries her face against his neck while they move. It’s fast and slow at the same time, she wants him, but she wants to feel him even more. She finally gives in to the  _need_  of him and lets go, calling out his name in the dark and scraping her nails gently against his back when he follows her. The only sound for a long while is their combined panting, and she finally looks at him, whispering that she loves him, too. And maybe the other shoe won’t drop; maybe it never will. It’s just this day, and one day it’ll be another date on the calendar.  
  
She falls asleep tangled around him; somewhere around pre-dawn he gets up for water and comes back to bed, and she scoots against his back in her sleep, wrapping herself around him. They stay like that until the phone rings.


End file.
